A Teacher's Mentality

He used to tell me all his friends were teachers and I was no exception. He used to tell me things that didn't make sense. Until they did. I have no patience, I used to think. I have no skill, I used to worry. I cannot see beyond the current, I used to imagine.

He used to tell me I, too, was a teacher. He used to teach me, again and again, day in and day out, that a teacher is nothing more than a student. The moment you think you're a teacher, you no longer are, he used to say.

He used to warn me that being a teacher is a frustrating job. He used to lament that students who want to know are few and far between. He used to tell me many things that made no sense to me. Until they did.

A teacher, I may not be, despite playing the role. A student of the human experience I just might be, despite my own blindness and prejudice. But the art of embracing all is my subject of study. And maybe one day, I just might have a chance to communicate something of value.

He used to teach me everyday in every way. He used to sit down with me and speak. He questioned lovingly and carefully. He used to read many things and learn many topics. He was a perpetual student, because he knew the depth of any subject was infinite.

He was my teacher and his teachings are still with me. And when I sit in front of the class, his words are in me. This must make me a student, or a humble servant of the people.